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Soulweaver 165: The Delicate Sound of Thunder

  “So, your plan’s fucked,” I said, cutting right to the chase.

  “Pardon me?” Grug replied, blinking. Most of the Basecrest Guardsmen huddled around our impromptu strategy meeting in the open field, along with their captain, a big, burly man by the name of Alistair. We hadn’t spoken much until now, but that was mainly because the guy liked to keep to himself. I hadn’t even seen him converse with his troops much either.

  At any rate, I felt like having this conversation out in the open was better than in the back of Grug’s covered wagon—what we discussed would directly impact these soldiers, after all. I’d rather they heard it firsthand. They’d soon be risking their lives.

  All of it for a farce, I thought bitterly. This was just another case where the grunts got shafted in the machinations of those who were higher up. The better a job these soldiers did, the more of them would die. I had to admit, getting fired felt small-time next to the consequences these poor souls were about to face.

  Or that’s how it would’ve gone down, had I not been here. This whole engagement was going to be a sham—I couldn’t change that—but if I did my job well, then maybe it’d at least be a sham where as few as possible lost their lives.

  I bore the Basecrest Guard no ill will. Quite the opposite, actually. They’d been great to work with, kept the order, and valiantly laid down their lives in the face of the Cataclysm. The way I saw it, they truly were good guys, and just because Dominium considered them expendable didn’t mean I did.

  “Can you explain what you mean, Greg?” Grug asked. “Moreover, where have you been? When you didn’t return, we feared the worst.”

  “The worst almost came to pass,” I said angrily. “We were ambushed by the elves. By an elite contingent who’d been spying on us, no less—on all of us—for days. We stood no chance. Luckily, we managed to convince them that taking us as high-value hostages was more beneficial to them than killing us on the spot.”

  Of course, that had been the Sylrithar’s plan all along, but having everyone think it was us made the feat more impressive—and thus made our audience more likely to believe the story.

  “Well, it makes sense,” Grug said, nodding with his arms crossed. “They’d have given us serious pause if they had used you as hostages. That’s for sure. How’d you escape?”

  “Well, they stripped us of our weapons and armor, and so they probably thought we were no harm at that point. Little did they know we had our own tricks up our sleeve. We broke out, grabbed our gear, and somehow found our way to a lift before anyone raised an alarm. By then, we were well on our way down the massive tree—way bigger than I could've imagined. Even with our luck, we barely made it out. They sent a whole group after us, and it was only after we’d repelled them that they gave up. Rode here as fast as we could.”

  “You certainly look like you’ve been through the Cataclysm and back,” Grug muttered. “I’m sorry to have put you through that, friend. I never thought the elves would be so bold as to range outside their forest.”

  “Yeah, well, think again,” I said, wringing my wrists. “I’m afraid you’ve underestimated them. You’ve all underestimated them. We thought we’d be up against a force of a hundred, maybe. Try more like several thousand. Their population’s easily in the tens of thousands.”

  That little nuke sent a ripple of murmurs through the crowd.

  “That can’t be true,” Grug said with a frown. “Our intelligence…”

  “Was incorrect,” Aerion said. “‘Tis no secret the elves value their secrets. They’ve simply done a better job hiding their true numbers than anyone could have expected.”

  A lie, but a plausible lie, and being Aerion, one that was delivered flawlessly.

  The murmurs quietened, and I heard more than a few ‘what do we do?’ and ‘how can we be expected to fight against such numbers’?

  “Plain and simple. We can’t,” I said. “Not if we want to have any hope of living, that is. Then again, I’m guessing the higher-ups won’t be satisfied if we turned back now. I doubt even my word would have that much sway.”

  It might, actually, but all that would do is delay the inevitable. To survive past this cycle, the elves needed to prove their worth to Dominium, and this was the best shot they’d have. It wasn’t a bad plan, per se. I just hated being the middleman.

  “Then what do you suggest we do?” Grug asked, sweat beading up on his forehead as he glanced at Alistair, who just stood with his arms crossed, face scrunched up in a permanent scowl. The captain didn’t say a word, despite now being the perfect time to weigh in.

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  To be honest, I wanted to know where he stood on the matter, but no luck. When the silence looked like it wasn’t about to end, Aerion picked up the slack.

  “We fight,” she said. “However, we fight knowing we will lose. Dominium will be looking for something tangible from this encounter. Let us bring them the enemy’s numbers and their tactics. Let us tell them of the bravery you all showed, and the fierce resistance the enemy put up. Let us put forth a good show before retreating to safety.”

  “These elves. They will allow us to leave, will they?” Alistair asked, surprising everyone with his rich, thunderous voice.

  “I got the sense that the elves only care about their forest,” I said cautiously. “I can’t see them leaving their home and all the advantages it gives them. They didn’t even bother pursuing us, after all. How will they field and support a large army? With our fewer numbers comes increased mobility. We can flee faster than they can pursue.”

  “No,” Alistair said at length. “I will not risk the lives of my troops against such odds.”

  “That would certainly be the safer bet,” I said, trailing off.

  We fell silent for a long while. Aerion and I had chatted about what to do in such a situation, and we’d come to the conclusion that we wouldn’t force the Basecresters to fight if they all wanted to turn back. Regardless of the elves’ desires and Basecrest’s machinations, this wasn’t our responsibility.

  We’d been thrust unwillingly into the middle of a complex political situation, and as far as I was concerned, a postponement of hostilities was a win. Sure, it’d mean foregoing everything the elves had promised, but that was a price both of us were willing to pay.

  Maybe Eskil wouldn’t have batted an eye at sacrificing people to get ahead—maybe that even made sense in the grand scheme, considering how many lives would be lost in the upcoming Cataclysm—but I didn’t want to become that person. It was one thing to let people burn in a game, and another entirely to be guilty of that crime in reality.

  “What would be your plan?” Grug asked cautiously. “Assuming we did go through with this?”

  Alistair gave Grug a warning look, but Grug shook his head. “He’s right. We cannot return like this. I might get away with lost profit, but you’ll be demoted for certain. Let us at least hear him out.”

  Alistair’s frown deepened, though when he said nothing further, I took that as my cue to continue.

  “Well, I think we should engage them near the border of the forest,” I said. “Maybe a half-mile away, or so. Close enough to lure them out, but not so deep that we’re caught up in the trees. Who knows what sorts of traps and defenses they’ve got.”

  “And then?” Alistair asked. “What of their archers?”

  “The archers are a problem,” I said. “I’m guessing we’ve got archers of our own, but these are elves we’re dealing with. Even assuming we deprive them of the vantage of their trees, am I safe in assuming they’ve got better range?”

  Alistair nodded slowly.

  Right. Some things never changed.

  “We’ll use my secret weapon to flush them out,” I said, glancing between the two men. “I’ve uh, got something resembling artillery magic, though the range isn’t quite what those elves can muster, I’m sure. That’s a problem, but a solvable one. I get behind enemy lines, sow chaos, forcing them to close in and attack us. That’ll stop the archers.”

  “Perhaps, but with their numbers, won’t we be in grave danger?” Grug asked.

  “Only if we stay and fight. The moment we see them charge, we flee. No one will expect us to fight such a large force. By that time, we’ll have had plenty of opportunity to suss out their tactics and their training.”

  “They’ll have our backs as we retreat,” Alistair said. “It will be devastation.”

  “Actually? No,” I said. “You’re absolutely right that a rout would be an unmitigated disaster. That’s not what’s happening here. We’re going into this fight planning to retreat. Which means it’ll be organized. A fighting retreat versus a disorganized flee. We’ll have our archers harass the enemy the whole time. I see your spears and your tower shields. Tell me, Captain Alistair, how good are your men with mobile shield walls?”

  Alistair frowned. “Impossible. We can muster shield walls as well as anyone, but it is a static formation, liable to break down with any movement.”

  I stared Alistair in the eye, wondering if he was pulling my leg.

  His hard gaze told me that no, he was, in fact, for real.

  Then again, I supposed they were a force primarily focused on peacekeeping on narrow streets and alleyways. Formation work like this just wasn’t going to be a priority, even with someone like Alistair training them.

  “How long will our supplies last if we stretch them?” I asked.

  Grug frowned in thought. “Perhaps another two weeks? Three, maybe, if we truly ration? Why?”

  A week and a half of hard riding would get us back to Basecrest. That left another week and change.

  Plenty of time.

  I sucked in a great breath. This could actually work.

  “Because while we don’t have the luxury of numbers, we do get to set when and where this battle happens. Doubt Basecrest or Dominium will care if we’re a week late.”

  “And what would we do with this week?” Grug asked, looking thoroughly confused.

  “Why, train, of course,” I said with a grin, meeting Alistair’s stare. “Guard Captain? Allow me to introduce you to the testudo formation. I promise it’ll change your world forever.”

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